


Wrong Number, Right Person

by GalaxyGhosty



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Age Difference (19/25), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 07:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGhosty/pseuds/GalaxyGhosty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur's day is going without a hitch until he gets a phone call at one AM from a sobbing teenager who's ingested over half a bottle of sleeping pills and who's dialed the wrong number.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrong Number, Right Person

It was late, a very, very, very late day at the office for a particular Arthur Pendragon. It was so late for him to be at the office that it couldn't even be considered a _late day_ anymore, rather an _early night_ , what with it being about one in the bloody morning. He wasn't even that dedicated to the job—just had work that needed to be finished and if there was anything a Pendragon like himself did, it was see things through. 

Arthur Pendragon was...an interesting bloke, to say the least. At twenty-five, he was already the head of the department of the printing company that his father had instilled for him. He was ill-tempered often times, snapped at the other associates, but generally cared a great deal about their well-beings. He was practically a model son—tall, blond, gorgeous—only thing he really hadn't followed through with was the whole “settle down and get married” portion of the deal, to which he didn't honestly see himself really _doing_. Arthur had never considered marriage, couldn't imagine being tied down to someone for the rest of his life, however long it may be. 

Part of his bitterness, his step-sister Morgana always told him, was because his mother had died at a young age and he was stuck living with Uther, his father, for so long. Arthur, though he would never admit it out loud, felt she was partially, if not fully, right on the matter. His father was a stern man with strict rules and Arthur had a difficult upbringing with striving to be the son that his father wanted. Pendragons were strong, stubborn folk, and so Arthur had to be that way as well. 

Overall of that, though, Arthur had a pretty average life. Sort of.

So that's why on his very, very, very late day (his early morning), he was surprised that his mobile started ringing. 

Arthur scowled at the device on his desk, breaking the train of thought that he had running, stopping mid-sentence in his typing. He grabbed the phone and stared at the 'Unknown Number', raising a questioning eyebrow. No one called his number that was unlisted, no one knew his number that he didn't know. Having an unknown number was like having an unknown person waltz up to you and proclaim that he was married to them. Unlikely. Nearly impossible. 

He flipped open the phone. “Arthur Pendragon. Who is this?”

There was a strangled noise from the phone, and Arthur almost hung up then when the sound of a voice finally broke through. “W-who? W-Will is that you?”

“No. It's not. Mate, I think you have the wrong number,” Arthur replied shortly, rubbing his temple with his free hand. Who was this kid, anyway?

There was a pause, and he guessed the kid was checking the number. Then he heard a curse. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Wrong number, wrong _damn number!_ ”

Arthur winced. “Look, kid, I'm hanging up. I'm sorry you got the wrong number, yeah?” he began to pull the phone away from his ear.

“No wait!”

He stopped, pulling the phone back. “Yes?”

The boy on the line hesitated for a few moments, but then said, very quietly, “Please. Just. Stay with me for a few minutes.”

“As much as I would love to talk to a complete stranger at one in the bloody morning,” Arthur said sharply. “I have things I need to do so I can go home and sleep. Like you should be doing.”

“You won't have to deal with me for wrong, I promise,” he said, his voice cracking again. “I...I-I don't want to die alone, please.”

“What?” the blond began, not sure if he'd heard right. “I'm sorry, _what?_ ”

The boy choked out a sob again. “I...I took a lot of sleeping pills. Half the bottle. Please, just stay with me until I fall asleep. You'll never have to deal with me again. No one will. You don't have to say anything...just be here. Until I stop talking.”

“You _idiot,_ ” Arthur hissed, fist unintentionally curling into a fist, insult coming out before he could catch it. “What on _earth_ made you swallow half a bottle of sleeping pills? More importantly, why aren't you calling a hospital?” 

“I wanted to die,” the boy replied, as if it were obvious. “I _want_ to die,” he corrected, then he heard a sigh. “You don't understand.” 

His voice sounded so distant, yet still wrecked with unformed, choked sobs. Arthur let out an exasperated sigh. “You're damn right I don't. What could be so possibly bad that you wanted to off yourself?”

The boy laughed breathlessly, then he heard a sniffle. “My father abandoned me before I was even born. My mother was a mess after he left. S-she...she drinks a lot. Tells me I'm the reason he left, why she isn't happy. It's true, it's true though. If she didn't have me she wouldn't...” 

He let out another strained cry, and Arthur felt his heart tug at the sound. He sounded so pitiful, and he bit his lower lip. He wanted to ask more on the subject, wanted him to elaborate, but knew better than to interrupt. 

“...My mate, Will, he...he's all I have. But he's in Uni right now. In the States. I'm such a burden to him, he's always protecting me...always did when we went to school together. I was bullied a lot, and he always took the blunt of it for me... so I wanted to...I wanted to tell him goodbye. But I dialed the wrong number. My hands were...are...shaking. I must've hit the wrong button...” he laughed again, but it was almost hysteric. “Tell him I'm sorry for me, yeah?”

Arthur had no idea who Will even was. But he said, before he could stop himself, “I'll tell him.”

“Thanks,” the boy let out a shaky sigh. “It just...it all _hurts_. It all hurts _so much_. I can't _think_ , I can't _breathe_ anymore. I just...I want it to stop. I want it to _stop_...”

It was only after he said it when the reality of the situation hit him. This kid was _dying_. He was spending the last minutes of his life with _Arthur_ who'd wanted to hang up on him the minute he called, almost didn't answer the phone. The thought made Arthur's stomach lurch. He'd known this kid for a grand total of—he checked the timer on the phone—ten minutes, and he knew that _he really didn't want this kid to die._

His mind was racing. What could he do? Could he trace the call somehow? Could he trick him into telling him where he lived? God, he realized he didn't even know this kid's name. 

Was he even still alive?

“Hello? _Hello?_ ” 

“I'm here...I'm here...” the boy said, then he heard a yawn. “I just...zoned out.”

“Idiot,” Arthur said again, then asked, very conversationally, “What's your name?”

A pause. Then, “Merlin. Merlin Emrys.” 

He held the phone between his shoulder and his ear, typing in the name on the search engine, trying to find some sort of address. Merlin Emrys didn't seem that common of a name, so maybe...

“What about you?” Merlin inquired lightly.

Arthur let himself laugh a little, thinking of how ironic it almost seemed. “Funny. My name is Arthur Pendragon.”

He could _feel_ Merlin's smile. “Maybe it's destiny.” 

“Destiny...” he replied, testing out the word. “Destiny.”

He decided not to respond to it, searching fruitlessly for something that may not have even existed on the internet. But low and behold, finally after a few minutes, he found a Facebook page by the name of 'Merlin Emrys', and upon clicking it revealed a photo of a young boy, no older than perhaps nineteen, smiling broadly. It made Arthur sick to realize that no one would've ever guessed what he had going on in his life. He looked at where he lived— _let there be at least a street, or even a town_ , he thought hopefully. 

“Arthur...?” 

“Here, here. Merlin, tell me about Will, yeah?”

_Keep him talking_ , he thought. _He might have a chance if I keep him talking_.

Merlin hummed lightly in response, then continued to talk about Will and his old memories, things they did together when they were younger, and what happened as they grew up. He occasionally went off on tangents, talking about things that had no connection to the elusive Will whatsoever, but the sound of Merlin's voice was reassuring that yes, he was still alive. 

God was smiling on Arthur today, he realized after a moment. He found an old event on the page tagged with Merlin's attendance, and an address. Which, he hoped and prayed was _Merlin's_ address. (The comments from a friend named 'Will' gave him hope, at least.) He wasn't even sure if this was the right _Merlin Emrys_ , but it was the best shot he had. Arthur wondered how he could make a call with his cellphone practically attached to his ear at the current moment. He glanced around his desk, and then remembered the phone down in the lobby. He could get down there in time, right? 

He listened to the sound of Merlin still talking, his voice fond and soft, as if he weren't even talking to Arthur at all, simply remembering out loud. Arthur wrote down the address and hurried out of his office. He practically slammed the button on the elevator, willing it to move at lightning speed. 

This is _not_ how he planned on spending his evening (morning, night, _whatever_ ).

“...Arthur?” 

“Yes, Merlin?”

He paused. Then spoke, very quietly, “I-I...thank you. Thank you.”

Arthur got down to the lobby, wandering around the reception desk and found the phone. He hummed into his own mobile, dialing the emergency number. “Yeah...yeah.” 

Merlin kept going on, as if Arthur hadn't even spoken. “I'm glad that...I dialed the wrong number. You're...you're nice. So...thank you. Maybe we'll...we'll...no, no, never mind.”

“What? No, tell me what,” Arthur insisted, putting the phone on speaker, setting it down as he pulled the other phone to his ear.

Merlin prattled on about something, but Arthur didn't pay attention as a voice came through the phone.

_“What's your emergency?”_ the operator on the line asked, sounding much too robotic for comfort, but it was his only shot.

“I have a boy who overdosed on sleeping pills,” Arthur said, glancing down at his mobile on the counter. “I don't know how long he's got, he took them over twenty minutes ago. Maybe longer. This is his address,” he read it off slowly, pronouncing each word with a tender care he didn't know existed in himself. “Get to him.” 

_“We're on our way.”_

“Arthur?” 

He hung up, and put his cell back to his ear. “Yes, Merlin, I'm here,” he reassured him, again. “I'm here.”

There was a very quiet, very short sniffle, and then, “...Arthur...I-I don't want to die anymore. I-I'm scared. I-I'm really scared.”

Arthur closed his eyes, willing his heart out to this complete stranger. It was strange, he realized, he didn't know this boy, didn't know him at all, and yet here he was, wanting nothing more than to find him and hold him, tell him it would be all right, and to not be afraid. “It's going to be okay,” he said finally, keeping his voice steady. “It's going to be all right, Merlin, I promise. Don't be scared, don't be scared...”

“Okay,” his voice was scarcely above a whisper. “Okay.”

Merlin seemed to calm down a bit after that. Arthur could hear the slow, quiet breathing of the other on the line. It was almost melodic to him, and before long he was practically breathing in sync with him. He didn't speak at all after that, but Arthur spoke into the phone. “Merlin?”

He didn't answer. “Merlin? Merlin!”

Again, no answer. Arthur called into the phone again. “Merlin! Answer me!”

He strained to hear the sound of his steady breathing, but he didn't hear anything. No, no, he couldn't be dead, _he couldn't be dead_. The ambulance was on their way, should've been been there by now, he should be on his way to the hospital now. “Merlin!”

Arthur clenched his fists, praying, hoping, wishing, _Don't let him be dead. God, don't let him be dead. Give me this one miracle, don't let him be dead._

He waited for a long while, struggling to hear something, _anything_ , and when the phone finally hit forty-five minutes, he hung up. 

~~

A week passed since that day, and Arthur couldn't remember the last time he'd had a decent night's sleep. It was always get up, go to work, stay at the office late, get home late, sleep like shit, and then wake up to start the cycle over again. Gwen, who was his PA, kept telling him to take some time off, but of course, he rarely listened to her. 

He was typing away at his computer as always when said PA poke her head through the door, giving him a tentative smile. “Mr. Pendragon?”

“Guinevere,” he didn't look up, but he could tell that she wrinkled her nose at the use of her real name. “What is it?”

“There's someone here for you, says it's important,” she replied, and he stopped typing, looking up at her. 

“Do they have an appointment? I wasn't expecting anyone today.” 

Gwen's smile faltered a bit, but remained. “No...but...”

“Then tell them to go away. I don't have time for this,” Arthur snapped, resuming his work. “Tell them to make an appointment and I'll see them later.” 

She didn't leave right away, and instead said, “He said you'd know him. His name is Merlin Emrys?” 

Arthur froze, the name pulling forth a memory which he buried a week ago. He looked up at her, and she was frowning now, apparently alarmed by the expression on his face. He stood up, and walked around his desk, storming past her and outside, eyes searching for someone at least similar to the photo of the boy he'd seen. 

And there he was.

Merlin stood there, rubbing his arm nervously as he glanced about the office, clearly putting his gaze anywhere but where Gwen stood at his office door. He was chewing his lower lip uncertainly, as if he was considering leaving before he'd accomplished his goal, his foot tapping a steady _pat, pat, pat_ on the tiled floor. 

He looked a little older than his photo showed, and hair a little longer, curling around his ears. His features were sharper, as well, high cheekbones and a pale complexion, chapped lips that looked as though they'd been bitten and licked at a lot. He had a very “rolled out of bed” sort of look, and it was entirely possible that he _had_ just rolled out of bed. It was adorable on a numerous amount of levels and it made Arthur's heart skip. 

It was a long moment before his eyes finally found him, and the boy tilted his head. Arthur quirked a brow in response.

There was a moment of silence, Merlin's eyes eventually meeting his, and he waited for the spark of recognition. He waited for the broad smile to cross Merlin's lips, waited his pale face to light up, but it didn't come. Instead, he was met with a confused expression. 

So he smiled, instead. “Merlin?”

That's when it happened. 

Merlin's eyes widened, as if simply by the sound of his voice, Merlin knew. His whole body seemed to relax, and he gave him a very tired, but very warm smile. He licked his lips, swallowing, before mumbling very softly, “Arthur.” 

The boy walked over to him, and he looked hesitant, as if he were contemplating his next move. He reached out, slender fingers poised outwards in a position that looked as though he wanted to shake hands. Arthur took it, and tugged him closer, not sure what was coming over him as he wrapped his arms around him in an embrace.

Arthur normally wasn't a very touchy-feely person, so when he hugged the boy in question, it was as much a surprise to him as it was to Merlin, who tensed immediately at the contact. But Arthur held him fast, and eventually, Merlin warmed into it, hands gripping his shirt fiercely, as he buried his face in his shoulder. 

It only took a few minutes for Arthur to realize Merlin was crying again, his body shaking every time he took a breath. He moved his hand up and down his back, not trusting himself to speak. Merlin just gripped the fabric of his shirt tighter, sniffling. 

“I almost died....I almost _died_...” Merlin was saying, his voice cracking on each syllable. “I would've...I would've...and you...and you...”

“Called the ambulance?” Arthur supplied, still rubbing his back in comforting circles. “What was I supposed to do, let you die?”

“I expected you to,” Merlin replied, pulling back and wiping his eyes furiously. He took a deep, shaky breath. “You didn't...you _don't_ even know me. And yet...you stayed on the line with me.” 

Arthur snickered a bit. “You asked me to. It's not everyday I get a phone call from a crying teenager, telling me he's just ingested half a bottle of sleeping pills, _Mer_ lin. Did you honestly think I'd hang up on you?”

Merlin gave him a small smile. “You sounded pretty angry when I first called, I thought you might.”

The blond merely shrugged, and Merlin quickly hugged him again. It was Arthur's turn to suddenly tense, but he relaxed into it quicker than Merlin had. It felt _right_ , he decided after a moment, somehow it felt right to be holding him. It was a reminder that yes, he was here, he had made it in time to see that boy alive. A smile graced his lips, then, and he avoided anyone's gaze, not sure how he would explain the display of affection with someone they'd probably never seen.

“Thank you...” the dark-haired boy said finally, as if he hadn't said it before enough. “You saved me. You saved me from doing something really, really, really stupid.” 

“Yes, well, you were being an idiot,” Arthur replied, and Merlin pulled back, almost offended until he saw the teasing expression on his face, then his smile returned. 

“Is there...anyway I can...repay you maybe?” he asked tentatively. “I owe you, I really do. Those days in the hospital...I was thinking about it. So is there...anyway...?”

To be honest, he was expecting anything _but_ that. He could see that Merlin fully intended to repay him one way or another, even if Arthur didn't think he was due anything at all. In his eyes, he did what anyone would have done in that situation. 

“I'm nineteen, before you ask,” Merlin interjected, rousing Arthur from his thoughts. “I go to Uni, so I'm kind of poor, as you'd imagine. But I owe you a favor, at least."

He almost laughed. He glanced around at the curious gazes of his colleagues, and he realized that he probably looked half mad, the way he was smiling. He _felt_ half mad, and before he even knew what he was doing, he took Merlin's hands in his own.

“You could get coffee with me,” Arthur said smoothly, taking great pleasure in the look of bewilderment on the boy's face before he gave him a wry smile. What was he thinking? He didn't know what he was thinking. Maybe he really _was_ crazy, but he continued to elaborate, a laugh worming its way into his voice. “Tomorrow afternoon?”

“Are you asking me on a date?” Merlin asked, trying to sound incredulous, though his voice betrayed him, and instead he sounded amused.

“It's whatever it is for you to say yes,” Arthur smirked, and Merlin let out a very warm, very inviting laugh. 

“It's a date then,” he said, and he squeezed Arthur's hands lightly, before pulling back then. “Yes. I'll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Yeah,” the blond replied, and he reluctantly let the dark-haired boy pull from his grasp. “Tomorrow.” 

The boy's face softened, and he nodded. He cleared his throat, and then said, “I'll be going then, you should get back to your work, yeah?”

Arthur nodded, and he grinned a bit at the light dusting of pink on Merlin's cheeks. The boy bowed his head a bit and turned, walking towards the elevator and his smiling face disappeared as the doors closed.

He swiveled on his heel, a broad grin on his face as he walked back towards his office. The smile felt foreign on his face, but to be honest, he didn't even _care_. He was practically _ecstatic_ , all over some boy he hadn't even _met_ until today. It was mad, crazy, and exhilarating, all mixed into one. Gwen gave him a curious smile as he passed her, then asked, “Everything all right, Arthur?” 

Arthur spun round in his chair, positioning himself back at his computer, his fingers positioned above the keys on the keyboard. He waited for just a second, before his fingers began to tap on the keys again, replying to her in a voice he scarcely recognized as his own.

“Never better, Guinevere,” he said. “Never better.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm American, so unfortunately, this isn't Brit-Picked. Sorry!


End file.
